The Runaway Bride

CHAPTER 6: Punch

When the school bell struck nine, indicating the start of the curfew for the dormitories, both André and Zac sighed in unison, each holding a feather duster as they cleaned the books individually.

Noah, who was only ignoring either of them, just sighed and lifted up a box full of yearbooks that he had finished cleaning. Standing up, he was about to turn around when he felt his elbow hit something hard, followed by the thudding sound of a box filled to the brim with papers falling on the ground.

Zac and André turned his way, Zac’s lips twitching into a smile, and André sporting a blank look.

“f**k,” Noah murmured and dropped the box he was holding to clean up the papers that were now scattered all over the ground.

André walked towards where he was crouching, his eyes on him.

“No, it’s fine. I can handle it,” Noah said, but André only raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He lifted his head, staring up at André’s eyes then back to the papers that were now under his feet.

“I just wanted to go get a new rug. Who said I was helping?” And with that, he went on his merry way like some kind of useless bloody imbecile.

Zac chuckled but was immediately cut off by a sharp look from Noah who was now seething.

During breakfast the very next morning, Noah woke up with his back aching after all the lifting he did back at the storage room. The other two did nothing more than talk like they’re a bunch of morons who goes to preschool. They did a little work, but apart from that they were both completely hopeless.

When he glanced at André’s bed, he was still asleep — something that he’s gotten already used to by now. Oftentimes when his alarm clock would go off, he would receive several curses and sometimes even a pillow thrown at his face.

But now he’s completely dead — stiff as a board and bright green.

Okay, maybe the latter was just an exaggeration. But if Noah woke up to that, there was no doubt that that day would be the best day of his life.

“s**t,” the corpse that is André suddenly blurted and sprung out of his bed, fishing a random trousers he found at the foot of his bed, and putting it on.

Noah winced. He wasn’t sure if that one was even washed, but what the hell. It’s his body.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked him, his tone very much hurried and dashed down towards the tiny walk-in closet where his clothes were hanged.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

He just grunted and fixed his hair, limping towards the door as he tried to put on his shoes. “Where was that f*****g clock when I needed it?”

Noah just ignored him, his mood immediately spoiled, and headed straight for the shower.

It was still a wonder to him how André could be such a messy person and a neat one at the same time. Whenever he goes out, he was always presentable. But the moment you step into his room, you’d immediately take back what you had previously said.

Most people would’ve known him as someone neat. But it was the latter for Noah. He had seen his mess already before he had even seen him.

“Hi, Noah,” a nondescript girl with blonde hair said the very moment he had stepped into the overcrowded cafeteria for breakfast. He doesn’t usually come here this late but because he had to meet Harrold, he had no choice.

He had always found crowded places as something worth to be avoided. Apart from all the unwanted attention, there was also the issue about the unwanted smell.

He walked past the girl as if he didn’t see her and went straight for the counter, looking up at the menu on top. “An aglio e olio, please, and a strawberry-rhubarb buckle.”

“And what would you like to have for drinks?”

“One diet coke, please.”

Someone chuckled from behind him. “One diet beer, please,” André said, mimicking his voice, and winked at the woman who was taking their orders, making her blush.

Noah just scoffed at the ridiculous sight before him, appalled at the thought that André hits on practically anyone and anything with a skirt. Now, he’s afraid to come even remotely close to him. He might have one of those sexually transmitted diseases — he’s afraid, although unlikely, that it might even become airborne.

“Fuckboy,” he muttered under his breath but André heard him, smiling only at his words.

After the woman had given him his food, he was about to start walking away from André and towards the newly-deserted table at the corner of the place when a foot suddenly sprung out of nowhere, tripping him.

There was a loud clatter when his tray and all of its contents landed on the floor. Everyone’s eyes now turned on him, their inquisitive eyes silently pushing him to explode.

He turned on the spot where he had been tripped, seeing no one but André who was only looking at him with half a smile.

“Why’d you swim?” he mocked, and Noah gritted his teeth.

Before anyone could even register what happened, Noah’s fist landed on André’s jaw, making everyone gasp at the sight.

Someone rushed out of the cafeteria, no doubt to call a professor or announce the fight to people who weren’t there, but apart from him, everyone else just seemed to be rooted on the spot. Their eyes hot on them.

André wiped the blood that had managed to ooze out of the open cut on his lower lip, wincing when the bitter taste had registered in his system. “What the f**k is wrong with you?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

André scoffed, his temper slowly rising out of its limit. “I didn’t trip you, alright? It was—”

“Oh, yeah? Then am I just suppose to assume that the f*****g ground did?”

“Look, man, I don’t know what your problem is, and neither do I give a s**t. But I suggest you stop dragging me into your shitshow before I smash your head in—”

Noah was about to throw another punch when a hand caught his already clenched fist. Turning to the guy who was standing beside André, his face scrunched up even further into a scowl when he saw Zac’s face.

“Before you throw another punch, I think you need to turn around,” he coolly remarked, pushing Noah’s fist away and stuffing his hand back into the pockets of his jeans. “It wasn’t André who tripped you. That asshole did.”

When Noah turned to see who Zac was looking at, he saw David standing at a spot where it would’ve been easier for someone to trip him without him noticing. His face instantly grew a little pale when he made eye contact with him — only confirming Zac’s statement.

“You tripped me?” he asked, his voice sounding a little less pissed and more guilty by the minute.

“N-No,” he stuttered, biting on the straw of his coke. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I saw what happened!” a short girl with pigtails chimed in, raising a hand in the air as though participating in class. “David was the one who tripped you.”

David gave the girl a sharp look but the girl only rolled her eyes at him, heading back towards her friends.

Now, Noah was completely at a loss for words. He could neither say anything or let alone make eye contact with André who was still standing behind him.

“It was you?” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper, and Zac rolled his eyes at them.

“Look, if you’re not gonna punch him, then I will.” And he did. Straight in the jaw — the exact spot where Noah had hit André just seconds ago.

There was no blood and neither was there a bruise that was threatening to show up on David’s face after the punch which only made Noah feel even more guilty. His stomach clenched at the thought that his punch was way harder than that of Zac’s. And it wasn’t even André’s fault.

He turned on his spot to look at André but he was already gone from his place. He could hear murmurs about the two of them, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing nagging at him right now was that punch.

He wasn’t the one who took the hit, but he could feel the pain.